


Greyscales

by Ricochet713



Series: Tumblr Prompt Ficlets [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Prompt Fic, Soulmates, Tumblr Prompt, only a little angst, thanks Mercer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricochet713/pseuds/Ricochet713
Summary: Hanzo has yet to find his soulmate, despite his brother having found his years ago. He's beginning to wonder if he's destined to live his life on his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet prompt from hungarianbee on tumblr. Such an adorable idea and I had so much fun writing it!!!  
> If anyone wants to send me prompts, my tumblr is keepcalm-reapon (Overwatch blog) or dragonace713 (main blog). Enjoy!

Hanzo glowered at the dragon spiralling up his arm, its sleek body entwining around his muscle, its proud head staring solemnly out from his skin. A magnificent creature – or it would be, where its scales not such a dull, lack-luster grey. Beside him, his brother caught his expression, and followed the trail of Hanzo’s gaze to the tattoo.

“Do not worry so much, brother. It will colour soon enough.”

Easy for him to say. The orange plume and green scales of Genji’s own tattoo peered out from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, vibrant and glorious. Seeing it, remembering that his younger brother had found his soulmate years before him, further soured Hanzo’s mood. His scowl deepened, and he stood, shoulders stiff.

“I am not worried,” he snapped curtly.  “I have neither the need nor time to find some _soulmate_. There are other more important matters I must focus on.”

Genji made to rise, but Hanzo waved a hand at him. Reluctantly, the younger of the two brothers lowered himself back down to his seat, a concerned frown across his features that only served to further annoy Hanzo. He did not need his brother’s sympathy, didn’t want it. If anything, it made his predicament worse to know Genji felt sorry for him, maybe even pitied him. And pity was not something Hanzo could tolerate. Huffing, he turned and stalked away.

"Where are you going?" Genji called after him, as he shrugged on his coat and made for the door.

His reply was short, final - "Out" - and then he was marching down the hallway.

New York was a good city to lose oneself in. Its constant bustle, the steady flow of people and traffic, the cacophony of car horns and street vendors and obnoxiously loud phone conversations, could stamp out unwanted thoughts and sweep away unbidden, uncontrolled emotions, back under the rug of stoicism where they belonged. As Hanzo wandered his way through the crowded streets, his coat sleeves pulled down to his wrists to conceal his grey tattoo – he was deeply thankful for the cool autumn weather – he cast his gaze through the swarm of people, scanning faces, catching short snippets of conversations, trying to let it drown out his inward turmoil. But every couple, every brightly coloured tattoo he saw, only made it worse.

Hanzo was 37 years old and his tattoo was still grey, which meant that he had not yet found his soulmate. Most people found their soulmates in their 20’s, or at least before they were 35 – Genji had found his in his late 20’s, years ago. And Hanzo? Nothing. Not even a shimmer to tell him that he was getting close. He was starting to wonder if some people simply didn’t have soulmates, or if maybe something had happened to his. The thought of spending the rest of his life alone scared him more than he’d like to admit. Despite the cold exterior he donned most of the time, Hanzo carried a great deal of warmth in his chest. Warmth for his family, for his brother, but also, he had hoped, for some significant other. He had no need to be swept off his feet, to lose himself in a whirlwind romance - he simply wanted someone there, someone other than his brother to ask him how his day had been, if they wanted to go out for dinner to that nice new restaurant on the weekend, whether the rug should be moved approximately three inches closer to the door or not. Trivial, perhaps, but at the thought of them, Hanzo's heart ached. He shook his head.

Finding no reprieve from his thoughts in the crowd, Hanzo slipped into a nearby Starbucks, hoping caffeine could warm the sudden chill across his skin. It was as busy as the street outside, and as he tried to bolster his way through the throng towards the counter, his shoulder collided with something particularly solid, and he was knocked sideways. He staggered for a moment, his balance thrown, hands shooting out to catch himself on whatever he could. His fingers brushed against a rough material, and he thumped into someone - they gave a surprised grunt, catching him more out of reflex than concern. He flinched at the feel of strong hands against his arms as whoever had caught him helped to steady him, surprisingly gentle.

“Woah there,” a purring, strongly accented voice rumbled behind him. “You alright?”

Hanzo looked up, still rattled from his near-miss, at the man who had helped him. He was taller than Hanzo, with shaggy hair and a strong jaw mostly hidden behind a thick beard. Warm brown eyes looked down at him, simmering in the shadow of the man’s wide-brimmed hat.

 _Handsome_ , was the first thought that Hanzo came to mind. _Too close_ , was the second. He shrugged the man’s grip from his arms and stepped back.

“I am fine, thank you,” Hanzo growled.

The man cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Didn’t mean to upset you or nothin’. You kinda ran into me, see…”

Hanzo gave a grunt. “Thank you,” he repeated. “Good day.”

Before he turned around, Hanzo noticed a brief flash of disappointment in the stranger’s face, but paid it little mind. If he was lucky, the stranger would be on his way out, and Hanzo could back to trying to distract himself. Adjusting his coat, Hanzo fought his way through the crowd to finally reach the counter. It was surprisingly easy – unlike his previous attempt, people now seemed to part hurriedly in his wake. Was his scowl really so intimidating? Even the barista behind the counter seemed to widen her eyes a little, but Hanzo realised her attention wasn’t on him. Rather, slightly behind him. Hanzo turned.

The stranger grinned at him sheepishly.

“Now you before you say anything, I ain’t followin’ you… We just happened to be going the same way, is all.”

Hanzo grimaced and stepped to the side, nodding his head at the counter. The stranger frowned, not understanding, and Hanzo struggled not to roll his eyes.

“You go. I have not yet decided,” he explained.

The stranger made an “oh” sound, tipped his hat, and stepped up to the counter, flashing the barista an easy smile – charming. Hanzo glanced down at his arm. The sleeves of his hessian shirt were rolled up above the elbow, revealing a large tattoo of a glaring skull with elongated teeth, black with striking red accents.

The lurch in his gut surprised and confused him. He’d hardly said a word to this stranger, didn’t even know his name, yet somehow the revelation that he had a soulmate upset him. He shrugged it off as the fact that this stranger looked roughly the same age as him – yet another person to have found their soulmate before he had. Someone else to remind him of what he didn't have. His scowl deepened and he clenched his jaw.

“What would you like, sir?” The barista asked him.

The stranger scratched at his beard, thinking for a moment. “Go ahead and get me, uh… a chai latte, no fat, if you don’t mind.” He paused, frowned, lowered his hand. “Make that two, I'll get one for my friend here.”

Hanzo looked up, alarmed. It had to be someone else. Someone who had come in with the man that Hanzo hadn’t noticed. But the stranger glanced across to him with a shy smile, shrugged, and offered a lazy wink. Hanzo’s heart hammered against his ribs.

“I… I do not drink chai lattes,” was all he could manage to say.

The stranger shrugged again. “Well, now you can try one.”

“Uh, sir,” the barista interrupted them, “what were the names?”

“Jesse,” the stranger told her. “And…?”

“Hanzo.”

“Jesse… and Hanzo…” The barista scribbled the names onto a pair of takeaway cups. “Great. That’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”

Jesse paid before Hanzo could offer to cover his own, waving aside Hanzo’s protest. “My treat, for bumping into you.”

“But _I_ bumped into _you_ ,” Hanzo retorted.

“Oh, yeah. I guess you did…”

They stood awkwardly by the counter as their coffees were made, Jesse scratching at his beard in what Hanzo assumed was a nervous habit, Hanzo frowning at him with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes continued to flicker to Jesse’s tattooed arm. He had a soulmate, yes, but that shouldn’t stop him from making a friendly gesture, should it? Maybe sharing a coffee would provide the distraction he needed – or make it infinitely worse. Of all the strangers to bump into, it had to be this bizarrely dressed but irrefutably attractive man with a foolish, charming grin. Hanzo might have been better off back at his apartment, dealing with Genji.

“So,” Jesse began, glancing away. “You from around here, or...?

“Japan,” replied Hanzo, tone sharper than he’d intended. “My brother and I are here on business.”

“Ah.” Jesse nodded. “Just dropping by. I ain't from here, either, originally. The crowds take some getting used to.”

“Oh? Where are you from?” He had to be American, Hanzo didn’t doubt that, but maybe he came from further south.

“Santa Fe.” He tugged at his serape. “The getup didn’t give it away?”

Hanzo eyed him. “It is… unusual…”

Jesse rumbled a laugh, and Hanzo’s heart fluttered. He allowed himself to briefly image how that laughter would feel with their chests pressed together before scattering the thought.

“You really are a businessman, ain’t ya?”

“What do you mean by that?” Hanzo frowned again, lips tight.

At the hardening of his expression, Jesse faltered. “Oh. Sorry, darlin’, only meant that, you know… Ye've got a careful way with words, is all...” He shrugged, coughed. “Listen, I didn’t meant to offend you or…”

Hanzo forced himself to soften. “No, it is alright. I understand.”

But Jesse still looked miserable. “People’r always tellin’ me I’ve got a big mouth. Never really learned to keep my thoughts to myself.”

“That is not always a bad thing.”

“No?” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Guess not…”

“Two chai lattes for… Mr. Jesse and Mr. Hanzo?”

Jesse leapt at the distraction. “Right here!”

He reached out to take the coffees and paused. Hanzo frowned at him, noticed the bewildered look on his face as he stared down at his left arm, where the tattoo glistened red and black.

“What is…?” Hanzo began, but Jesse didn't seem to hear him.

“It ain’t never been that colour before…” he breathed, startled.

The barista behind the counter gave a whistle. “ _Ooh?_ Looks like someone’s found themselves a soulmate, then! Congratulations!”

Jesse’s cheeks flushed red. Hanzo stared at him, wide-eyed. His tattoo had only just coloured? How had he not noticed? Surely there would have been some warning, some signal – how could not be aware of something so significant? Hanzo paused. What if…?

He yanked up the sleeve of his coat to expose the curl of the dragon on his arm. Its scales, which Hanzo had always known to be a tired grey, now shone with a rich, luminescent royal blue and shining amber plumage. The radiance of it was so brilliant, Hanzo found himself suddenly of breath. It had coloured! His tattoo had finally coloured! Then, that meant...

“Uh… darlin’…?”

Hanzo looked up to see Jesse holding the coffee cup out to him, the crimson skull tattoo gleaming on his arm. He was wide-eyed, and his voice was breathy.

“I, uh… I think we might be…”

“Soulmates,” Hanzo finished for him. Gingerly, he took the coffee, his own tattoo catching the bright fluorescent lights of the cafe brilliantly.

“Yeah… How’s that, huh?”

Hanzo raised the cup to his lips. The latte was warm, rich, and just on the border of being a little too sweet. The taste was unfamiliar, strange on his tongue, but also deeply enjoyable. He glanced up at Jesse.

“… It's good. Very good.”

Jesse smiled, warm and sweet. Unfamiliar, but enjoyable. “I’m glad to hear it.”


End file.
